The streets are empty, we’re alone in the town
As if Armageddon has laid a hand down
The stars they twinkle and seem to wink
Out of the shadows, a coyote slinks
A nighthawk circles, searching for prey
Then disappears with the coming of day
The night is ours, to do as we will
Nothing can harm us—with our darkest skill
Most will sleep as we move about
Silent we creep and light without
The night is ours, midnight awaits
Out in the darkness, we’ve found our fate
The stillness is ours, the peace and quiet
Under a shroud of darkness, we move through the night
We hide away before the dawn
Off to bed without a fuss
But back we’ll be as darkness falls
Because the night belongs to us.
Chasing Rainbows
I chased the colors ‘til they touched the ground
I searched and searched—no gold was found
From oranges to reds and greens to blues
And colors in between—amazing hues
A hue of colors, oh so bright
I stared and stared, ‘til I lost my sight
A light so bright, it blinded me
I chased that gold, ‘til I can’t see
I live in darkness now—I’ll never see another
I chased my last rainbow—a world with no color
I learned a lesson, from up on high
Don’t chase the gold, leave the rainbows in the sky
Off on the horizon, where they belong
I know that now, leave the rainbows alone
AFTER MIDNIGHT
After midnight, the darkest hours before the sun
When nightmares reign, and blood will run
After midnight, work of thieves while others sleep
Outside the windows, the shadows creep
After midnight, the moon goes away
The darkest hour of a witch's day
After midnight, creatures arise
Come up from the grave, to claim their prize
After midnight, the reaper is nigh
Searching for souls, while loved ones cry
After midnight, I'm still awake
Praying to God, my soul to take
Devil's Gate
The road to Hell is paved in stone
In a truck named Satan, I drive it alone
A cobblestone nightmare on the highway to Hell
I race through the night to reach the well
A harlot named Lorena silently awaits
Surrounded by flames as I reach Devil's Gate
I feel the heat as the flames shoot high
An orange desecration against the night sky
A black gold harvest before the dawn
Sure at last, I'm the Devil's pawn
Lorena sits deadly, surrounded by fire
Spewing her poison, she’ll never tire
Like a thief in the night I eagerly await
For Dawn to come, to make my escape
I'm not in Hell, it's not too late
To leave Lorena behind, to leave Devil's Gate
Future’s Past
The future is not in the past
You must move on for love to last
The future is in plans, in goals, an open door
If you are stagnant—melancholy and poor
You won’t face it alone, the present is there
A day to day ritual, a promise you wear
Your plans laced with hope, don’t ever despair
The future is now, one you can bear
Life is uncertain, a mountain of time
Plans are well-laid, but still sublime
The future is here, goals are in sight
Stay on the path, and all will come right
If you live in the past you can never move forward
No plans, no goals, nothing to move toward
A ledge made of rock, a fall so steep
You can still stop, before you’re in too deep
Put the past away and come back from the edge
Stay on the path, your memories don’t dredge
During the 2014 floods of southeastern New Mexico, we worked through water up to our knees, we watched as one road after another became impassable. Water crested the bridges, it swept away cars. I remember one day in particular, Scott and I could not get to each other. There was a huge accident blocking the road. Every way around had bridges washed out. I was determined that day, come hell or high water, I will get to you, Scotty. Another day, I saved a cow that was trapped in the mud of a ditch and Scott said I should write a poem about it. Now, how the hell you going to write a poem about a cow?
COME HELL OR HIGH WATER
Up to my knees, the water pours
Boots heavy with mud, make walking a chore
I'll get home today, if I must beg or barter
I'll reach my true love, come Hell or high water
I trudge ever forward, through flash floods and lakes
For at our home, my darling awaits
I'm cold and wet, chilled to the bone
The road is washed out; there's no way home
The mud is a trap, holding a cow
I'll get her out, though I don't know how
With chains and trucks, I pull and pull
Her life has been spared; my heart feels full
Bridges are out, no way through or around
Water is rising all through the town
People are wading, like lambs to the slaughter
But, I'll get home today, come Hell or high water
LIFE ETERNAL
I had a dream of memories, in which I owned a saloon
I saw an old west town, a gold rush boom
A man with a shotgun, my hands in the air
I see him pull the trigger—he killed me in my lair
My dream goes even further, a ship on the sea
A strange land ahead, a new life for me
I wear a wig made of white, buckles on my shoes
To my ears, my words sound foreign, my style of dress is too
I’m a doctor in the present time, I operate on brains
My dreams are filled with memories, of lives I’ve lived in vain
I’m good in the present, saving lives no doubt
I am happy and at peace, I don’t do without
Now, my dreams are in the future, a cage and bars surround me
I’m a thief and a killer, I know I’ll never be free
I dream of a cemetery, my name etched in stone
The gates of Hell await me, no chance to atone
I understand too late, I’ve missed it all along
I used to be a good man, where did I go wrong?
I dreamed of what I could’ve been, had I just lived my life right
Too late now I’ve realized, I’ve finally seen the light
I could have been a father, a good woman by my side
This dream makes me happy, a dream for which I’ve tried
I had a chance and blew it, now I plainly see
When I lived my life correctly, I lived eternally
Moment of Escape
On the horizon, I see a ship
An umbrella in my glass
The adventures of my trip
Memories made to last
Waves curl gently in
Salt is on my lips
This island on which I’ve been
Sweeter than I thought
Surrounded by white sand
Palms whisper in the breeze
My skin a golden tan
A hammock between the trees
A noise crashes in my ear
A sound causes me to jerk
A whispering I now hear
I open my eyes and go back to work
Houston, Texas. November, 2013.
Better late than never you
crazy s.o.b.s
RUSH HOUR
Like cattle to the slaughter
They push and prod as they race toward their grave
Never stopping to think of the life that could’ve been saved.
They sit and think of nothing
As traffic creeps slowly along
They haven’t put down the phone long enough
To have a thought of their own
No turn signal, no courtesy
As they weave in and out
One car length closer to home
One foot in the grave, without a doubt
I sit and watch them
From up on high
Amazed at their stupidity
As the miles slide by
I think the human race is doomed
If they don’t back off
Just slow down and leave some room.
Caution: Please read slowly.
WHERE I'VE BEEN
Where crawfish boil and gators roam
Where things are bigger and the star is lone
Where life's a peach and on my mind
Where chiles are famous and deserts unkind
Where wagons rolled and buffalo roamed
Where birds migrate and corn is grown
Where oceans meet and gulf stream flows
Where the apple is big on an island home
Where battles were fought and a ride was made
Where 'r' is not used in the language today
Where cities are twin, and the rivers begin
Where down home hospitality draws you in
Where canyons are deep and horses run free
Where trees are so tall, the sun never peaks
Where lakes are salty and mountains so tall
Where a rocky carving watches us all
Where a river divides us, east and west
Where a valley's so harsh, they call it Death
Where horses race and grass is blue
Where an arch still stands and beer is brewed
Where a gate of gold opens the way
Where a grassy hill looks over the bay
Where skies are big and valleys wide
Where rivers end and waves collide
Where falls are great and potatoes are grown
Where many presidents have made their home
Where swamp meets city and a mouse is king
Where laws were written and a bell doesn't ring
Where skiers play on mountains tall
Where cotton is harvested, late in the fall
Where the trail ended for those who cried
Where eagles soar and grizzlies reside
Where bets are made and fountains spray
Where falls are huge and newlyweds play
Where homes are on water and skies of grey
Where angels tread and stars will play
Where mountains are smoky and country sings
Where folks still visit the home of the king
Where it's always windy by a lake so great
Where ships come to die and the ground still shakes
Out of the Darkness
Thoughts of gloom under a blackened sky
The reaper awaits and death is nigh
Darkness fades and daylight awaits
I kiss the morning and meet my fate
The sun beats down now, blackness is gone
Warmth on my skin as the sun moves along
A sky of sapphire as the clouds roll by
I feel the heat when the sun is high.
Out of the darkness and into the light
Like a blind person who's suddenly gained their sight
I am truly interested in the opinions of my readers, good or bad. Please feel free to leave a review or contact me personally with your thoughts. www.karen-webb.com or sheilaofthejungle@yahoo.com.
Please enjoy this preview of As Jericho Falls. A young adult coming of age novel. Coming November 1, 2015 to all major retailers. Available now for preorder.
As Jericho Falls
FOREWORD
May 22, 2055
"Not like that, you dumbass," Randy said as Billy Ray tried to put two of the tent poles together.
Ricky, Billy Ray and Randy had found their favorite camping spot right down along the water, and were trying to set up their camp. Billy Ray had brought a tent that was barely big enough for the three of them. They argued with each other as they laid out the tent poles, trying to figure out where each one went.
Billy Ray hit Randy with the tent pole he had in his hand and the war was on. Randy picked up another pole and they used them like swords, poking at each other with them, until Ricky had had enough.
"Come on, you guys, I wanna get this done so we can go fishing."
With one last poke at Billy Ray, Randy gave it up and tried to help. The boys fumbled around with the tent poles, creating a mass of confusion, until Ricky sent Billy Ray and Randy down to the creek with their fishing poles, while he finished the job himself. He had always been the more sensible of the three of them. Level-headed, his mom called him.
The work was eventually finished, and they whiled away the afternoon, fishing and swimming.
They had each caught a decent size trout, and they cooked them over their campfire, along with hot dogs and marshmallows they had brought with them.
They settled back around the campfire after their sparse meal, smoking cigarettes Randy had stolen from his dad. They were menthol and tasted horrible, but the boys smoked and coughed anyway, each one trying to pretend they were old hands at it.
Darkness was settling over them and Billy Ray looked at his friends in the warm, orange glow of the campfire.
"Hey," he said. "Who knows a good ghost story?"
Ricky launched into an old legend, about an Indian maiden, one they had all known from the time they were young.
"And legend has it," he was saying, "that she's still out here, wandering around these woods by the light of a full moon—"
"Come on," Billy Ray cut him off. "We've heard that one a thousand times. Who knows a new one?"
They were all three silent for a few minutes as they racked their brains.
"I got it," Randy said suddenly. "You guys know the one about the young girl who used to live up the mountain here?"
"No," they said in unison.
"What girl?" Ricky asked.
"It's a true story," Randy said, a slow smile etching across his face. "None of that mountain legend stuff, but a true event, that took place out here a long time ago."
He had the attention of both boys now.
"Supposedly," he said, "there's an empty house that sits back up the mountain here. This girl, I can't remember her name, she left a notebook there, telling what happened to her."
"Well, what happened to her?" Ricky asked.
"I don't know. I was down at the store one time, several years ago, and I heard some old men talking about it. They said that something really wicked happened up in these hills, and that the girl's whole family cleared out in a hurry, and never came back." Randy's eyes glowed excitedly in the orange light. "According to those old farts, it's all in the notebook she left there. Maybe we should go and see if we can find it."
"Really?" Disappointment was evident in Billy Ray's voice. "What kind of ghost story is that?"
"A true one, I told you," Randy said. "Come on guys, let's find that house and see if it's real. This is more than some made up story, sitting around a campfire."
Ricky exchanged looks with the other two. His common sense told him it would be a big waste of time, but his sense of adventure was aroused. What if it did exist? And what if something strange had happened to this girl, whatever her name was? How cool would it be to find her notes. And, exploring an old abandoned house, that could only be fun.
"I'm in," he said finally.
"Yeah, I guess me too." Billy Ray sounded less enthused. He carried a few extra pounds—husky—his mom called him, and a long, sweaty hike up the m
ountain was not his idea of a good time. But, he had to admit, his sense of adventure was aroused.
They set out at daylight, Ricky packing up their tent while Billy Ray cooked a few more hot dogs over their fire for breakfast.
They were excited as they walked along, a sense of adventure between friends. They poked and prodded each other, cracking jokes as they walked.
But, by afternoon, the sticky heat was wearing them down and Billy Ray was begging to stop. "Let's just stay here and fish and go swimming," he begged, pointing at a deep pool in the creek. "Who cares about some stupid girl in some abandoned house in the woods."
But Randy was tireless, and he was determined to find the house. They had followed the dirt road, stepping to the side as the occasional pickup or four wheel drive jeep had passed. He was pretty sure they should have been to the house already. They had been walking for hours.
"Wait!" Ricky suddenly shouted.
"Now what?" Randy turned back to see what his problem was.
Ricky was staring at an old logging road, which veered off from the main road. "This looks like an old road," he told them. "Like maybe the road has been changed. Like now they built it around this hill, instead of up and over it."
"Don't be stupid, Ricky," Randy chided. "That's just an old logging road."
"I don't think so," Ricky said. "Too wide." He walked toward it, making his way between saplings that had grown up in the middle of the old road. "Come on," he waved over his shoulder.
Billy Ray groaned as he followed along. He'd had enough of this adventure. He didn't even care about fishing anymore. "Let's just make camp and rest already. This was supposed to be a fun weekend, and hey, you know what? I ain't having no fun."
"Come on chunky ass," Randy said as he passed Ricky and led the way. "Can't be too far now."